“Yeah.”
“How?”
Another sip of whisky and a long exhale. “My guys got sloppy.”
“Are they okay?”
“They’ll live.”
I sat back in my chair, deflated, but not entirely surprised. Tahaka was a slippery one—I had figured that much out after knowing him for less than an hour.
“Where do you think he went?”
Gabe held out his hands. “No idea. Could be anywhere by now. If I had to guess, I’d say he probably skipped town.”
“Which means we’ll probably never find him.”
“If he’s as smart as I think he is, probably not.”
Another sip of whiskey, then I put the glass down. “His intel panned out. I guess that’s something.”
“Yeah. Strange thing about that guy. God only knows how long he was running with SRT, what kind of shit he did while he was with them. And then this is what breaks him, you know? The Draugr.”
“Guess he finally reached his limit.”
“Guess so. Every man has one.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The phone rang. Gabe stared at it for a moment.
“Who do you think that could be?” I asked.
Gabe frowned. “At this hour? Who knows?”
The phone rang again.
“You gonna answer that?”
“I’d rather not.”
Another ring.
“If you don’t, I will.”
Gabe picked up the phone.
“Garrett.”
He listened for a few seconds, then a rueful smile spread across his face.
“Send him in. Thanks.”
He put down the phone. “Speak of the devil.”
I made a questioning face. Gabe pointed at the door, and a few seconds later, there was a knock. He got up to go answer it. I stood and waited. When the door opened, Stan Kaminsky stood at the entrance.
“You know, we were just talking about you,” Gabe said.
Stan walked inside and hung up his coat. There was a sweat stain circling his dress shirt in the shape of a bulletproof vest.
“Good things, I hope.”
Stan saw me and walked over. “Mr. Riordan.”
I shook his hand. “Agent Kaminsky. Good to see you alive.”
“Same to you.”
He loosened his tie, undid the top button of his shirt, and sat down heavily in the chair across from mine. “Colonel Bryant updated me on what happened today,” he said.
“So you heard about the prisoner,” Gabe said, moving to resume his seat behind his desk.
Stan nodded. “Colonel Bryant informed me. He knows to keep it between us, so don’t worry about that. It would have been nice to have another informant, but not critical at this point.”
“You got somebody else?” I asked.
“We do. High ranking member of SRT. He’s downtown right now. My people are working him.”
“What about Homeland?” Gabe asked.
Stan smiled wryly. “They’re off the case. President’s orders.”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “What changed her mind?”
“Probably a lot of things. Not much point in trying to hide the existence of the big Grays anymore. The word is out. And since Homeland didn’t manage to produce any real results in their investigation, the attorney general convinced the president the matter would be best left to the FBI, being as we were the ones who uncovered SRT’s plan and stopped four of the attacks.”
“Four?” Gabe asked.
“I said I’d keep your name out of it.” Kaminsky looked at me. “Yours too. And thank you for your help, by the way.”
I dipped my head.
“Did you find Heinrich?” Gabe asked.
Kaminsky’s face darkened. “Yeah, we found him alright. Found him full of lead.”
I looked at Gabe. He was as surprised as I was.
“What happened?” I asked.
Kaminsky waved a finger at both of us. “This is confidential. Got it?”
We both nodded.
“Looks like his own men did it. My informant, and one other.”
“Who?” Gabe asked.
Kaminsky gave a wry smile. “Your prisoner, Maru Tahaka.”
Gabe leaned forward. “You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not. Ran straight for the Outer Boroughs as soon as he got loose from your men. Made a beeline for Heinrich and emptied half a magazine into him. My informant finished the job.”
“They were working together?” I asked.
“Not exactly. And that’s as much as I can tell you right now.”
I looked at Gabe again. Both of us spent the next few seconds absorbing what we had just heard.
“What happens now?” I asked. “Where does the investigation go from here?”
Kaminsky looked at me irritably. I held up my palms.
“Just the broad strokes, I’m not asking for details.”
A sigh. “Well, from here we pump my informant for everything we can get out of him. Then we start making arrests. We’ll have to move fast. As soon as word hits the street Heinrich is dead, SRT is gonna go to ground. We’ll probably be chasing those fuckers for years to come.”
Gabe’s eyes went cold. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“Same here,” I said.
Kaminsky smiled. “Careful, fellas. I might just take you up on that.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Eric,
BSC Headquarters
The next day Gabe came to visit us first thing in the morning. He offered to let us use his apartment for the duration of our stay in the Springs, but I declined. I suggested he ask the families of the men he lost if any of them needed a place to stay for a while. He grew solemn at that and said he would.
Most of the people admitted to Memorial Hospital were discharged within forty-eight hours, alleviating Allison’s fears of not being able to give birth there. I stopped by the maternity ward anyway to make sure things were still in order. The director assured me they were and spent the next half-hour soliciting a donation to help the hospital cover the costs of treating a couple of hundred people injured in the attacks over the last few days. I asked him how much they needed. It was less than my scheduled quarterly distribution from Centurion National’s profit for the previous year. I told him I would cover it and signed a pledge form. When we shook, I held his hand an extra few seconds and smiled and said I would really appreciate it if my wife got the VIP treatment during her stay. He nodded enthusiastically and said he would see to it himself.
That done, I spent a few days touring the city with Allison and the little guy. The attacks, for all the panic they caused, only damaged a few small parts of the area inside the wall. There were some structure fires and broken windows and a small amount of looting that was quicky put down, but for the most, within a few days, life was back to normal.
The Refugee District, however, would need months to recover. If it ever really did.
A few days of being a tourist were about all Allison could take. Much like her last pregnancy, she was tired all the time and her knees and ankles bothered her if she stood or walked for too long. Which left us with a dilemma. I did not want to leave her to look after little Gabriel on her own, but I had business matters I had been putting off that needed my attention. There were caregivers available for hire in the city, but I was not about to have some stranger looking after my wife and son. After discussing it with Allison, I realized I really only had one option.
The next morning, I swallowed my pride, made a call, and hired a carriage to Peterson Army Air Base.
*****
“It’s so good to see you!”
Miranda threw her arms around my neck and squeezed hard enough to make it tough to breath. I hugged her back.
“Good to see you too, kiddo. It’s been a while.”
She put her hands on my shoulders and stepped back. “Let me look at you.”
I stood still and let
her and did some looking of my own. She had filled out some, the half-starved appearance she had always possessed in Tennessee giving way to a more well-fed, athletic look. Her hair had grown longer as well and she wore it in a half ponytail, the top part tied back and the rest hanging loose on her shoulders. Her eyes were just as sapphire blue as I remembered. She smelled like lavender and vanilla, and not for the first time, I thought to myself that Caleb was a lucky man.
“You look good,” she said. “I like the beard.”
“Eh. Makes one of us.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Not really. But Allison thinks it makes me look distinguished, so I guess I’m stuck with it.”
“Well, I think Allison’s right. Come on in.”
I followed her inside. The house was a three bedroom, retrofitted for the realities of the post-Outbreak world. There was a cast-iron stove in the living room and a wood-burning stove/oven setup in the kitchen. A stack of well-seasoned hardwood stood in a neatly stacked pile next to each, and through the kitchen window, I could see two large rectangles of firewood under tarps in the small back yard. The decorating scheme was what Allison would have called shabby-chic, consisting of rustic furniture in dark blues and grays with deliberately distressed paint and hand-carved wooden plaques on the walls with little sayings like Home Sweet Home and Love You to the Moon and Back. There was a bronze vase on the kitchen table with flowers that looked fresh, but upon inspection, were actually silk and plastic. Added a nice touch, though. I looked around and nodded in approval.
“You got a nice place here.”
“Thank you. Would you like something to drink?”
“Just some water would be great.”
“One minute. Make yourself at home.”
I sat down in one of a pair of armchairs across from the couch. It was comfortable and smelled vaguely of lavender and vanilla. I wondered if Miranda had been sitting in the same spot when I knocked on the door.
“Caleb went to the market to pick up a few things,” Miranda called out from the kitchen. She had taken a large block of ice from a hand-made icebox and was stabbing chunks off it with an icepick.
“I actually came here to talk to you,” I said.
Miranda walked over to the cast-iron stove. There was a kettle sitting next to it. I guessed she had boiled some water earlier in anticipation of my visit. The city water was safe to drink, or at least that was what the government said, but some people just were not willing to take the chance.
“Okay,” she said, pouring the water over ice. “What about?”
“Well, I was wondering if you would be willing to help me out with something.”
She smiled as she walked over and handed me the cup. It was wooden, but well carved and carefully sanded.
“I already have a job, Eric.”
“I know. And I know you enjoy what you do. I’m not here to bring you back to the company. Although, if you ever decide you’d be interested in heading up my human resources division…”
“I’ll let you know if that day ever comes.”
I smiled and nodded. “Fair enough.”
She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs underneath her. “What do you need help with?”
“It’s Allison,” I said. “She’s having a tough time.”
Miranda’s face grew sympathetic. “Is it as bad as last time?”
I nodded. “Yep. And now we’ve got the little guy, and I have a million things to do before the baby gets here, and…well, I was wondering if you could take some time off and, you know, look after them for a while.”
“That’s asking a lot, Eric. I don’t get much vacation time.”
“I know.”
“And my kids would have to be taught by a substitute while I’m gone.”
“I know.”
“How long are we talking?”
“A couple of weeks, maybe.”
A sigh. “Well…I guess I could. When do you need me to start?”
“Monday work okay?”
“I could do that.”
I breathed out in relief. “That’s great. I really appreciate it. I’ll pay you for your time. Whatever you want.”
Miranda shook her head. “I’m not going to charge you for a favor, Eric. I already owe you more than I can ever pay back.”
I felt my face heat up and looked down. “You don’t owe me a thing, Miranda.”
“You risked your life to save mine, and then you helped me through the hardest time I’ve ever been through. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
“You saved my life too. In more ways than you know.”
Miranda smiled. “Does Allison know about this?”
I breathed out, grateful for the change of subject. “Yeah, we talked about it.”
“Good. I have to admit, I’m really excited about seeing her and little Gabe again.”
“He was just a baby the last time you saw him.”
“I know. I’ve missed him so much.”
“Still trying to make one of your own?”
Miranda looked down. “I’d like to be, but you know Caleb. He’s always off on some mission. Doesn’t spend much time at home anymore.”
I was about to make some excuse for him when I heard the man himself come in the front door.
“Hey babe, I’m back,” Caleb called out. His footsteps stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Is someone here?”
“Eric is here, honey,” Miranda replied.
The footsteps resumed. Caleb emerged from the hallway and set a couple of canvas bags on the kitchen island. “Got the potatoes and green beans and rosemary,” he said. “Butcher was out of beef though. Got chicken instead.”
“That’s fine. Did you find any butter?”
Caleb held up a fist-sized bundle wrapped in brown cloth. “Let me put this stuff away and I’ll be right with you.”
The potatoes and green beans stayed on the counter. The butter went into the icebox and the chicken went into a metal box on the back porch. It was in the thirties outside, so the meat would stay just as fresh as in a refrigerator.
Caleb poured himself a cup of water and sat down next to Miranda. “I’m surprised to see you,” he said, looking at me. “Figured you’d be out movin’ and shakin’.”
I studied him a moment. The face was outwardly friendly, but I could see the suspicion behind the calm blue eyes.
“Well, seeing as you poached my best employee, I figured I’d better try to get her back.”
Caleb frowned. “Your offices in the city opened months ago. Didn’t know you were still hiring.”
Miranda and I looked at each other.
“What?” Caleb asked.
“He just needs me to look after Allison and little Gabe for a couple of weeks.” Miranda affected a close approximation of Caleb’s Texas drawl. “You know, so he can do all that movin’ and shakin’.”
“Oh.” Caleb looked relieved. “How are they, by the way?”
“Gabe’s good. Allison is having some trouble. The last few weeks are tough.”
“She gonna be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. She’s as tough as they come.”
A nod. A silence. I moved to stand up, wanting to say my goodbyes before things got awkward, but Caleb spoke first.
“Hey, let’s take a walk outside,” he said. “Need to talk to you about something.”
I stopped a second, then finished standing up. “Okay.”
Miranda required another hug before my departure, which I gladly accommodated. She kissed me on the cheek and said she would be at the hotel Monday morning at nine. I told her I would make sure the concierge let her upstairs and went outside with Caleb.
Caleb was silent the first hundred yards or so. I looked around the neighborhood while we walked. It was a broad swath of base housing, built post-Outbreak, and laid out in neat grids with small yards and sidewalks and wooden street signs—a veritable paradise compared to many places I had seen in the wastelands. People here wal
ked the streets unarmed, in clean clothes, and children were allowed to play on their own. In most places, people had learned to live with a much lower standard of hygiene. Clothes were patched together from whatever material was available, be it salvaged cloth or animal hides, and no one went anywhere unarmed. Children stayed close to their parents and scanned their surroundings with alert paranoia. I thought about my own children and wondered what future generations would make of things once all living memory of the pre-Outbreak world died with people like me.
“I know you have questions for me,” Caleb said finally.
I looked at him. “Yeah, I do.”
“You haven’t asked me anything.”
“Not much point in asking questions if I’m not going to get any answers.”
Caleb heard the bitterness in my tone and looked away. “I want to give you answers, Eric. I really do. Stop for a minute, will you?”
I stopped and faced him. He stood in front of me, opened his mouth, closed it, and cursed softly.
“What?” I asked. “Christ’s sake, Caleb, this is me, okay? Just spit it out.”
A long sigh. “General Jacobs wants to set up a meeting.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I snorted. “Of course you can’t.”
“Listen, you want answers, this is the way to get them.”
“Caleb, I’m not following.”
Another sigh. “I can’t tell you much. There are…people. People who have been working behind the scenes trying to save what’s left of the world. They think you might be able to help. General Jacobs wants to meet with you to talk about it.”
I frowned. “You mean he wants to bring me into the fold. Like he did with you.”
Caleb’s eyes flashed. “I’m not some dumb kid, Eric. I wasn’t fooled or manipulated into anything. I walked into this job with my eyes wide open, and I don’t regret it. You’ve always said the world needs people like us, people who can do the hard things others won’t. Do you really believe that, or are you just talking out of your ass?”
I counted backwards from five and spoke carefully. “If you don’t know the answer by now, Caleb, you never will.”
“Then meet me at this address tomorrow morning at ten.”
He took out a pen and a small notepad, wrote something on it, ripped off a sheet, and handed it to me. I took it, read the address, and stuck it in a pocket.
Surviving The Dead | Book 9 | War Without End Page 35
